


When You Need a Throne

by OfStrangeShadows



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Face-Sitting, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7252231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfStrangeShadows/pseuds/OfStrangeShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys had meant to just think it, but the words slipped out of his mouth instead of staying in his brain. For having been asked if his face could be sat on, Jack isn't anywhere near as angry as Rhys had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Need a Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Full Title: When You Need a Throne (Sit on My Face) 
> 
> This has been on my [tumblr](http://ofstrangeshadows.tumblr.com/) FOREVER. I thought it'd be best to finally put it up here! I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and kudos would be super loved! :)

Oh…

Oh, god.

Did he really just—

Oh, _he did_ , and Jack wouldn’t even _blink_. He just kept staring at him with the most _bizarre_ look on his face, and Rhys wanted to die. The floor beneath him could open up, hands could burst through the ground and drag him down, the sun could explode, and he’d _thank_ whatever powerful thing had taken pity on him and killed him. What had made him even think—?

“What did you say, kiddo?” Jack finally replied, lips curling into a grin that Rhys recognized as _no good_ and he sputtered, bringing a fist up to his mouth to cough as nonchalantly as he could into it.

“Me? I, uh, I said nothing. Yeah, y’know, just,” he coughed again, eyes falling to stare at his boots instead of the man before him. Maybe if he glared down at the tiles it would spur them into swallowing him whole. “Uh, just wondering…hoooww I could be sitting on those facilities on Pandora? Y’know, hah, I suck at my job.”

Oh, yeah, because that was _so_ much better than what he had said before. He didn’t even know about any facilities on Pandora that would require his oversight. Good going.

“Ah, ah,” Jack tsked, one of his large hands suddenly appearing within Rhys’s view, and he watched raptly as two of his calloused fingers traced the edge of his crimson tie, following the length of it until the hand disappeared from his vision, bumping hard against his chin. Those fingers moved up his throat, pausing at his pulse point, and Rhys was sure Jack’s hand would flatten against the skin there, wrap around his neck and squeeze the life out of him, but he didn’t. Instead, his digits kept moving, solid and firm against his jaw when they made it there, suddenly gripping him tight, and pulling his head up roughly to hold his gaze. Jack shook his head, “Eyes up; you’re talking to your _boss,_ remember?”

He attempted to nod, meeting resistance from the grip Jack had on him, eyes wide as the CEO continued on, _“Now,_ let’s get back to what you were tryin’ to actually tell me– sitting on some facilities? Really, kiddo? Now, let’s actually talk about what you wanna do–” he tapped his chin with his free hand, tilted his head back, and licked his lips. Rhys wished he could say that his eyes didn’t follow the movement of his wet tongue, but he had already been proven to be a terrible liar, so why try? “Sit on– had to do with sitting on–”

“Oh, cupcake, now I remember! You wanted to sit on my face, huh?” The back of his shirt was sticking to his skin, damp with cold sweat, and his nerves protested as his eyes grew even wider. Jack laughed loud, deafening, and he felt like the sound was coming from every corner of the room, “Hah! You should see the look on your face! So–-so scared! What, you think I’d say no to eating your cute little ass out? Man, I want my mouth all over you, cupcake; I’d love to play with your hole. Have a little _taste.”_

He couldn’t keep himself from flushing hot, blood boiling beneath his face, mouth gaping as Jack laughed again, mean, the hand wrapped around his jaw releasing him to tug hard on his tie. He went tumbling forward and fell to his knees, cringing at the pain but immediately following the length of his tie with his eyes to look up at his boss.

Rhys watched as Jack took to a knee, tugging at his tie again with a smirk pulling at his lips as he moved forward obediently, ignoring the pain shooting up his thighs as his knees scraped along the tiling. The other deftly untied the knot keeping it at his throat, pink tongue moving over his teeth as he grinned - wolfish in the low light of his office. “Time to show you, firsthand, how good I am with my mouth.”

Jack had his tie fully in his hands in one fluid movement and was behind Rhys in the next. He pushed against his back until his arms weren’t holding him up anymore and his chest and face were flush to the ground, the cool feel of the flooring a relief against his overheated skin. He wasn’t sure what to focus on - the silken fabric of his tie being wrapped around his wrists, the rough feel of Jack’s jeans against his ass, the bulge of his hardening cock pressing insistently against him as he worked, leaning forward to mouth hotly against the back of his neck, or how _tight_ his own pants had suddenly become.

He keened loudly, the sound skidding along the floor, when Jack moved back, the hands working on his tie falling to grab at his hips, pushing him backward to meet the roll of his hips, the feel of his cock maddening through the layers between them. Rhys yelped when he did it again, sliding forward slightly with the momentum, and sighed shakily when his hips stilled, pressed against his ass, as his hands released him and moved to the front of his trousers.

Jack was just as quick to get him out of his pants as he had been to get his tie off, talented in unbuttoning and unzipping them without even looking, as if he had practiced before, and maneuvered them over his legs with a skill that Rhys wished he possessed himself, moving to the side only momentarily to push them off all of the way. He moved behind him again once they were gone, skin prickling as the cold air caressed his exposed ass, but didn’t press back against him. Instead, he used his hands to push Rhys’s ankles apart, spreading his legs, and whistling low when Rhys opened them even farther, thighs straining, cock heavy between them, “If only you could see yourself, Rhysie; perfect little picture, you are.”

He whined, fingers curling, and thought to beg Jack to _please_ get on with it, when the other suddenly moved before him, big hands pushing him back up to rest on his haunches.

“Hold yourself up, cupcake.” He commanded, and Rhys couldn’t act fast enough, legs quaking when he got himself far enough off the ground for Jack to nod and move to a lying position. He slid himself with his hands until he was beneath Rhys, face beneath his ass, and he shivered, sighed, cock pulsing, when his breath fanned against him, “Now put your knees on the ground and sit.”

He did so slowly, resting one knee down first and then the other, Jack’s hair tickling his ankles, and kept himself hovering there. He couldn’t just– Sure, he had asked, but he wasn’t–

Jack grunted, impatient, and suddenly his hands were on his hips again, pushing him down. The other groaned low when Rhys was finally settled, the vibrations teasing his hole, and he _whined_ at the feel of it, moving to pull away. _That_ was going to be too much, he knew, but the hands on his hips tightened and he couldn’t get away.

“ _Jack–”_

A hot tongue pressed against him then, flat, slow, and he forgot what he wanted to say. Jack followed the motion with another lick, pressing his tongue harder against him, and his thighs twitched as he moaned high in his throat, biting back the sound before it could leave him.

Jack lifted him them, pulling him up just enough to turn his head, sinking his teeth into his right cheek. He yelped, tried to move away _again_ , but Jack kept him in place, strong hands holding him still. His breath was hot where it met his skin, tongue even hotter when it soothed the bite he had given him, “If you do that again, I’ll make sure you bleed.”

He nodded fast, desperate, and Jack turned back to his hole and pressed him back down when he was satisfied with Rhys’s reaction, groaning approvingly as a gasp burst from his throat. He was rewarded with his tongue again, another flat press against him as he moaned, the sound echoing around the room, and he flushed at how _loud_ it was, something like shame flooding his veins.

His body twitched as Jack kept going, velvety tongue moving in long swipes against his hole, slick with spit, hiccuping out pleasing little gasps with every electric press of it against him. _Oh_ , he liked this, why hadn’t he ever asked bef–

The flat, long strokes of the others tongue that he had gotten used to suddenly stopped and he whined, wiggling his hips to rub himself against Jack’s face, his nose pressing hard into his skin. The hands on his hips gripped him bruisingly, stopping him, and the burning muscle he sought slid against his hole, tip teasing the rim of him and he squirmed, whining, “Jack, _Jack–”_

He almost screamed when the other pressed in, tongue scorching, dripping, the air exhaled from Jack’s mouth cold against the spit slicking his hole. But he didn’t do anything after that, didn’t push him down or move up, _nothing,_ and he _sobbed_ when Jack wouldn’t let him _move,_ trying to push his hips against the strong grip he had on them.

“Wha–What are you– _Jack!”_ He begged, hands trying to move to grab at Jack’s before meeting the resistance of his own tie. This time, he did sob, whining high in his throat, “ _Please,_ please _,_ keep going!”

Jack kept still for another moment, and then he started to laugh, the vibrations shaking his core as Jack pushed him down, tongue fucking into him. The feel of his laughter, the way he pushed into him, was too much, and he _needed his hands_. One hand would be enough, one _stroke_ would be enough. He could hear himself pleading, his voice hoarse as Jack kept going, “Untie my hands, untie my hands, untie my hands, _please_.”

He didn’t move to do that, didn’t even look up at where Rhys’s hands were bobbing against his back, instead pressing his fingers harder into his hips, pressing into him over and _over_ , taking his tongue out to lick him occasionally, groaning when Rhys would sob out another moan, continuing to beg.

“Wait, wait, Jack, _Jack,_ I can’t–I can’t–” There were tears pricking his eyes, spilling over his cheeks, and the vibrations of Jack’s laughter against his hole as he kept fucking into him, taking out the muscle to lick him, slow, tongue flat, was going to _kill_ him.

He heaved a sob when the other pulled away, _so close_ , breath hot against him and he shivered, “You wanted to sit on my face, baby. Now _come.”_

And then his tongue was pressing against him again, _into_ him again, a constant pressure he couldn’t get away from. He choked on the air as his chest heaved, fingers curling, knuckles white, clenching hard around Jack’s tongue as he came, cum dribbling onto Jack’s chest, painting the bottom of his sweater, and the belt holding his jeans in place.

The CEO gave him one last, long swipe of his tongue and Rhys’s flesh jumped at the feel, toes curling, his gasp strangled. Jack slid himself out from beneath him, looking down at himself before looking back to Rhys, something mean in the curl of his lips, teeth glinting.

“Look at what you did,” he tsked, motioning toward the mess Rhys had made of his front. He flushed, still huffing as his eyes turned toward the tile, and Jack’s hand was beneath his chin in an instant, pulling his head up and toward the obvious tent in his pants. He leveled him at the cum sinking into the leather of his belt, catching his eyes, and grinned when Rhys made a confused sound deep in his throat. “Now clean it.”


End file.
